If Only You Weren't There
by xoxomickeyxoxo
Summary: An AU story centered around House’s Head and Wilson’s Heart. What if Amber hadn’t come to get House and he was more severely injured during the bus crash? Huddy
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone! It's me, again, haha. I know, I keep getting these random ideas for stories [if you haven't you should check out my other two, soon to be three, stories!] and publishing them. So, if you hadn't read the description here it is : an AU story centered around House's Head and Wilson's Heart. What if Amber hadn't come to get House and he was more severly injured during the bus crash?

So I really hope you like it!

**Disclaimer: David Shore owns everything.**

**Copyright: The idea is probably unoriginal but the writing is - so don't take mine please!**

So, as always, read, review, and enjoy!

Oh, and please check out my other two stories! One is completed, and the other is in the works!

* * *

The hospital was buzzing with patients of the bus crash – Lisa Cuddy herself was in the Emergency Room, helping as much as she could. She moved from hospital bed to hospital bed, ordering more treatment, or releasing patients. As she moved around the ER, conversations flowed through the air, the car crash victims screaming in pain, and the families sobbing at the sight of their loved ones.

"32 year old female, lacerations to the arms and legs." Cuddy shook her head, judging it not serious enough, pushing the file away.

"Anything else?" The nurse flipped through the files.

"Male in his late, middle forties, contusion in his kidneys, lacerations over 80 percent of his body… coma," the nurse said quietly, looking down, moved by the grave situation of this case. Cuddy nodded, taking the file. "There's not much that you can do," the nurse remarked. Cuddy shrugged.

"I can… console the family," she said simply. Cuddy headed over to the room, seeing Taub and Kutner already in there. Cuddy poked her head in, Kutner immediately standing in front of her.

"We've got this one, Dr. Cuddy," Kutner said anxiously. Cuddy peered anxiously at Kutner.

"Is everything…," she began to say, when she noticed the cane propped up against the wall.

Time seemed to stop as she stood in the doorway of that hospital room. Her heart stopped in her chest and tears welled up in her eyes. Taub and Kutner exchanged a glance as they watched Cuddy.

"Oh my god," she breathed, pushing past Kutner and Taub to his bedside. Her heart fell apart looking at him, the scratches on his face and arms completely altering his appearance. With a shaking hand, she reached out and pulled open his eyes, dropping them as soon as she saw how his normally vibrant blue eyes were devoid of life. Tears started to fall down her cheeks as Taub rushed out of the room and returning a few moments later with Wilson.

Wilson had been making the rounds in the ER, when Taub approached him, both worried and upset, and pulled him into the patient's room. His eyes darted back and forth between House and Cuddy, a lump steadily growing in his throat. They both loved him, albeit in different ways – House drove Wilson crazy, testing the limits of their friendship day in and day out, but their bonds were just too strong – House drove Cuddy crazy too, sometimes enough to break her, but there was always something between them, a spark, electricity. He knew this must have been killing her. Wilson slowly walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"There's nothing you can do… just… take a break, grab a cup of coffee…. You can come visit him later," Wilson said slowly, squeezing her shoulder. Cuddy turned around and embraced him, sobbing quiet tears onto his shoulder.

* * *

Cuddy sat in her swivel chair, anxious to get away from the hustle and bustle of the ER, away from House. Her limbs felt numb, like Jell-O, her eyes were dry, and her heart was barely alive. There was nothing more she wanted to do than run away from the hospital and crawl under the covers, never to come out again. She took a deep breath and opened up some paperwork on her desk, only to push it aside again. Her thoughts were on him – only him, and nothing could tear it away. They had spent so much time playing cat and mouse games, always pushing each other to the limits, but never doing anything about the spark of electricity between them. She vowed to herself that if – when he woke up from his coma, that they would try, as hard as it she knew it would be, they would have to try. She had been fighting for him too long – from the infarction, to being shot, to this, and Lisa Cuddy was not a very patient woman. She wanted him, and now she was going to get what she wanted.

* * *

Wilson sat in the deserted cafeteria, resting his chin in his hands. An untouched sandwich lay in front of him – he half expected House to walk through the doors and help himself to a half. Despite all of his insensitive and irrational behavior and commentary, House was his best friend, through thick and thin. He had been there for Wilson, bailing him out of jail in the midst of his first divorce, and helping him in the aftermath of his next two divorces. And for House, well Wilson was his only friend, no one having his tolerance and compassion to be able to deal with his crazy antics. Footsteps were heard in the doorway of the cafeteria and Wilson turned, barely making out the shape of Amber.

"I came as soon as I heard…," she said, slowly making her way over to him. Wilson nodded – he needed no words to explain his feelings. She knew.

"Anything I can do to help?" She asked, pulling up a chair next to him and putting a hand on his face, her warm hand sending shivers up and down his spine. He shook his head, kissing her on the cheek.

"You… being here with me," Wilson said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "It's enough."

* * *

The team, along with Cameron and Chase, sat in silence in the differential room. They couldn't wrap their minds around it – House alone on a bus, House in a distressing accident, House… hurt. His leg, although hurt as well had always been a part of him – but his condition now, the cuts, the kidneys, the… coma, was too hard to handle.

"How bad?" Thirteen asked softly.

"Bad," Foreman said simply, putting his head down. House was an arrogant son of a bitch, but one that they all loved.

"How's Wilson?" Kutner asked, swallowing a lump in his throat. He had always had a soft spot for the older doctor – he looked up to him as a mentor of some sorts.

"There's nothing we can do except wait," Taub replied and the team remained silent, lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

Despite wanting to hide, Cuddy was the Dean of Medicine – she had to be down in the ER. She took care of what needed to be done, and then swallowed her pride, and headed down to the last place that she really wanted to be. Tears welled up in her eyes as she approached the room, but took a deep breath and stepped inside, her eyes never leaving him as she took a seat. She sat, quietly listening to the beeping of his monitor. She felt so many things, too many things, as she listened to the beeping of the machines – something she would normally find relaxing and comforting, now filled her with nothing but pain and agony.

'_Goddamnit, why were you drinking alone at a bar? Why can't you just be happy? Take some anti-depressants or go see a therapist,' _But she knew as soon as she thought those things, that if he wasn't the way he was, she wouldn't love him.

Relief flowed through her as she admitted it to herself, after denying it for so long. She had opened a door that had been bursting at the seams for so many years, and now a flood of emotions had poured through that she wasn't sure she could ever close.

_'You could have called me. Called Wilson, called your team. They would have come and gotten you.'_ She said, burying her face in her hands.

"If only you weren't there…"

* * *

So I'm sorry it's really short! I hope you liked it though and if you want me to continue or stop please let me know! Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

Hi everyone! So here's the next chapter to my story. I worked really hard on this, because let's face it, House is not an easy character to write. Especially if you're writing a Huddy story, because you want make him an ass but with a dash of compassion in there deep down. I mean, really deep down.

And it's really short. Actually it's about the same length as the rest of my chapters - just looks short.

This is a really weird chapter - I mean really weird. So if there is anything I can clarify, just put it in with a review and I'll get back to you :) Cause I always reply to all of my reviews haha.

**Disclaimer: House belongs to the brilliant David Shore.**

**Copyright: Don't take my writing please! :)**

So, as always, read, review, and enjoy!

_

* * *

"Fuck."_ That was the single thought that shot through his mind like a bullet. Darkness had engulfed him and he could feel all of his limbs, but was unable to move them. He didn't… couldn't remember anything. Bright lights seared through his mind for a nanosecond and the sounds of screeching tires and shattering glass filled his head. If it were physically possible, he would have winced at the disturbance. He remembered the garbage truck now, the bus, the impact – everything.

_'I'm in a fucking coma,'_ House deduced, still brilliant in his inhibited state. In reality, his EEG waves must have been spiking. There was another flash of bright light, and when it ceased, he was standing in the lobby of Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital, the realization that he had come to five seconds ago, now suddenly disappeared. He felt a strange absence, and looked to his side, noticing his cane was missing. He noticed Cuddy walking towards the elevators and called to her, figuring this must be another of her practical jokes on him, a way to get back at him after screwing with the inspector visit last week. He furrowed his brow when she didn't turn around – he was sure he yelled loud enough. He took a tentative step, waiting for the searing pain to shoot through his leg, and then recoiling in shock when he wasn't in pain. He took a few more steps, and then sprinted off to the elevator, which closed the instant after he pulled through. Cuddy looked distressed, he noted. She never turned, never acknowledged his presence. He waved his hand in front of her face, and surprisingly, he elicited no reaction. A jolt of realization shot through his veins. He knew and openly acknowledged that he was an ass, but he must have really pissed her off this time, more than originally intended. He felt something inside of him, an oddly disconcerting feeling – was it guilt for upsetting her? He shook his head – it sounded stupid just thinking about it. He followed her to a hospital room, where he saw his cane leaning against the wall. He smirked, knowing Cuddy had purposefully placed it here.

"You sly witch," he muttered, walking over to the wall and grasping his cane. He watched as Cuddy sat in the chair, and after a moment or two place her head in her hands. He moved over to her, then noticing the patient in the bed. Incredulity seized him and a shiver went up his spine. He had been near death so many times before, but he had never seen himself in the middle. He turned away, not wanting to see anymore. He read his stats – he was barely alive, the only thing connecting him to the real world were the threads of life, now stripped to a single, thin strand. What was keeping him here? He watched Cuddy, noticing that even in her disheveled state she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever known. After years of keeping her at a distance, he wanted to run to her and take her in his arms, but was suddenly paralyzed. There was another flash of light, a bright contrast to the dark scene that played in front of him.

The scent of coffee surged through the air and House sniffed, smell being the only sense at his fingertips now. The haze cleared and he was sitting at the differential table along with Kutner, Thirteen, Taub, and Foreman.

"You know what your problem is? You never let anyone get close to you. Or vice versa." House turned to look at Taub and snickered.

"You're the best example for that – you apparently get too close to people," House bit back, fixating on him with an intense gaze. Taub shrugged.

"You're always too afraid to find out what could happen, if you just… let yourself feel something for once," Thirteen quipped, pulling her brownish-reddish hair into a ponytail in one quick fluid motion. House opened his mouth to make some snide remark about her refusal to be tested for Huntington's.

"How do you mean?" His thoughts were vocalized before he could shut his mouth.

"Cuddy," Kutner remarked and House looked down at his feet, suddenly self-conscious. All it took was that one word for him to realize. Emotion bubbled up inside him from out of nowhere. He cursed silently, pushing them away again. When he looked up, the ducklings had left – only Foreman remained.

"I'm not the greatest expert of relationships." House snickered and Foreman gave him a forceful glare. House threw his hands up in mock defeat.

"Don't taze me, bro!" Foreman rolled his eyes, patiently waiting for him to stop.

"She only puts up with you because she feels the same way – why the hell would she deal with all of your crap? You don't put in even minimum effort here – just go to her. And tell her." House eyed Foreman speculatively. Did the team really know him better than he knew himself – did they know House and Cuddy better than they knew each other? He hadn't been involved with anyone since Stacey – and look how badly that had turned out. A feeling of animosity towards Stacey forcefully jumped out him. With everything that had happened with her, he was afraid – actually afraid, to let his feelings for Cuddy hurt him again. With that startling realization, he jumped up to go find Cuddy, and then stopped moving as there was no pain in his leg – he was long overdue for his next couple of pills, but the pain was gone.

"This isn't real, House," a voice came through the air and House winced at the annoying Aussie and his accent. There was another blinding flash of light and when it ceased, House was on the operating table, looking up into Chase's blue eyes. He was paralyzed from the neck down but he twisted around as much as possible.  
"Are you operating on me?" He asked as a staff of surgeons and doctors crowded around him.

"Yup," Chase replied simply, as he pressed the scalpel to House's chest. There was no pain as he watched blood trickle down his side. "Again – not real," Chase added, noting the look of distress on House's face.

"What are you fixing?"

"Your heart."  
"What's wrong with it?" He asked, squinting his eyes as one of the doctors moved a light over him. "Do you mind?" he snapped, but the doctor ignored him.

"It's confused about what it should be doing," Chase replied, as he searched around inside his chest. House rolled his eyes at the not so subtle remark – what, was this "Examine-Every-Aspect-Of-House Day?" Why the hell did everyone care so much? He closed his eyes, his head swimming in a pool of frustration.

"No one wants to see you miserable," Cameron's dulcet voice startled him and he opened his eyes, taking in his new surroundings. He was laying on the sofa-chair in his office, feet propped up on the footrest. Cameron sat at his desk, filling out his forms and signing his letters and referrals.

"Do you say that because _you_ don't want to see me miserable?"

"No. House, I loved you a long time ago. And you loved Stacey a long time ago. But don't you see? You can't let that devour you forever. I found Chase and couldn't be happier," Cameron said truthfully, as she tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear, and looked at him square in the eye. "Maybe you should let yourself be happy now too."

* * *

So one clarification that I can absolutely make is that everytime he tries to walk, he doesn't feel any pain, and I mention that he rediscovers it every time. He's supposed to - it's an aspect that I sort of wanted to play off - he's in a coma and all of these weird things are happening, but he's most fascinated by the loss of his pain. Just go with it if you can. So I hope you liked it and I'll update soon!


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone! I'm so sorry it's taken so long I've had major writers block. This is kind of a crappy chapter so bear with me.

**Disclaimer and Copyright.**

If you guys have any suggestions or ideas for the story please let me know! I'm always looking for feedback.

And as always, read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

Cuddy sat in his room, everything a haze around her. Occasionally, a nurse or one of the team members would come in and write down some stats, but nothing ever changed. The world went on around her as she drifted blindly through these days. The machines started to beep and Cuddy looked over, fearful of his life. Fireworks of hope erupted as she noticed the EEG waves were spiking. She leapt up out of her chair and went to stand by him. Cuddy tentatively reached out and took hold of his hand with her own, interlacing their fingers.

"Come on," she softly pleaded, squeezing his hand with all of her might, the feel of his calloused fingers odd, but comforting against her silken, smooth hands. "If you can't think of anything to do this for, do it for the hospital. It needs you. Wilson – he needs you," Cuddy pleaded, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Do it for me – I need you," she begged as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. She released her grip on him to wipe it away, and as she let go of his hand, the EEG dropped off again, slowly fading back to a barely more than negligible amount.

"Cuddy," a voice said softly, sympathetically, and Cuddy spun around to find Wilson standing there. He had a strange expression his face, one that Cuddy couldn't make out.

"I was…" she paused. She didn't have to explain to him. Wilson knew – he had always known.

"I'm scared," she said, looking back at him, reaching out a hand to touch him, but withdrawing it. "I don't want to lose him." The words killed her to say.

"Cuddy… did you ever really have him?" Wilson said softly – if anyone else had said that, she would have taken great offense. With Wilson, it was different – she listened to what he had to say, respected his opinion. She nodded, sinking down to the chair, a silence settling over the room.

"I wanted to… I want to." Wilson nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I know you do." Wilson hesitated, afraid to say much more. "He wanted to too. But, you … have to go home, take a shower, and get some sleep. You've been here for two days straight." Wilson said and Cuddy nodded, leaning against his arm. Wilson was her rock, a steady weight in her crazy life. She needed him – not in the way she needed House, but needed him nonetheless.

* * *

"You seem distracted…" Chase noted, watching Cameron aimlessly stab at her salad with the plastic fork. One of the prongs broke off and Cameron put her forehead in the crook between her thumb and finger.

"Are you okay, babe?" Chase asked, reaching across the table and rubbing a hand up and down her arm. Cameron nodded.

"House?" Chase asked, trying to sound as little envious as possible. Cameron gave him an intense death-glare.

"Nothing like that. Just worried… about House. And Cuddy, and Wilson." Cameron tacked on as an afterthought. There was silence between them.

"Do you think that they'll ever get it together?" Chase looked up, surprised. He had always known there was something eyes between the older doctors, but had never thought much about it. Cameron looked down, her downcast with worry and anguish.

"Hey," he said, and she looked up into his green eyes, feeling a sense of security and comfort knowing that she had already found the right one for her.

"It'll be okay," he said reassuringly. "They'll…," Chase began to say, not knowing where he was going. "They'll figure it out."

* * *

Sleep had been a fictitious wish in the past couple days – there was the fear of House waking up by himself and the fear of him not waking up at all.

"Wilson?" Amber asked, kneeling down onto the floor next to the couch where Wilson lay sprawled. He woke up with a start, his eyes red with agony.

"Is he okay? Did something happen?" Wilson asked, looking into Amber's blue eyes.

"Shh," Amber lulled, running a hand slowly through Wilson's brown hair. "It's okay… I just wanted to find your keys… maybe bring you some of your stuff from home." Wilson smiled weakly, the annoyance of being woken up washed away by her concern for his well-being.

"Thank you," he said, taking her face in his hands and kissing her, a rush of emotion coursing through his veins. "They're in my coat pocket," he said, stretching out his limbs and curling back on the couch. Amber fished the keys out of the pocket and turned to leave, then turning back to face Wilson. He was already in a deep sleep, either welcomed by joyful dreams or wicked nightmares. She sighed, placing a hand on her heart to stop it from jumping around inside her chest. She had once said before that, "My whole life I had to choose between love and respect. And I chose respect. But now with Wilson, I know what it's like to have both." Amber loved Wilson, she truly did – and now it was killing her to keep this secret from him – the guilt that arose when House was in the accident.

She remembered it clearly, the message left on Wilson's machine, an intoxicated and incoherent House, asking for a ride home. Amber had ignored it, figuring he would find his own way home, and went to the hospital to surprise Wilson at work. The victims of the bus crash had arrived shortly after and Amber was horrified to see House in one of the rooms – a critical patient. They had tried to move him down to the rooms with the other comatose patients, but once Wilson received word of that, he went into a fury, his normally calm and serene temper skyrocketing. He demanded that House have his own room, then left, Amber watching silently the whole time. She was guilt-ridden at not sacrificing her free time to go get him – not out of concern for House, but out of concern for Wilson – she didn't want him to deal with the pain of losing his best friend.

* * *

Rain softly pelted against the windows, a profound materialization of the emotion surrounding the doctors over the past couple of days. They hadn't felt like working – not without their boss to look over them, or their boss to look over their boss.

Thirteen was alone in the differential room, her head resting softly on her chin as she gazed out the window, unmoving.

"Here," a voice startled her and she looked up to see Kutner holding a cup of coffee in front of her.

"Thanks," Thirteen nodded and taking a sip of the strong drink. Kutner sat down next to her and they drank in silence.

"I know it seems different… but it's not. Everyone dies." Thirteen looked up at him, horror plainly written out onto her face.

"He's not dead," she choked out after an excruciatingly silent second.

"You're reacting this way because he might be… soon," Kutner noted softly.

"Yeah. I am. How come you're not?" Thirteen asked, fixing him with a firm teal gaze.

"I'm an Indian guy named "Kutner". Ever wonder what happened to my parents?" There was a beat of silence and the realization slowly sunk in, breaking her tough façade.

"I'm sorry… I didn't…"

"I was six years old. I used to like helping out in my parents' store after school. Guy walks in to rob the place. Ends up shooting them both. Wasn't fair. Took years, but I had to accept that's just the way it was." Thirteen watched the emotion plainly written out on Kutner's face – a blend of acceptance but residual sorrow. She understood what he was trying to tell her – but she almost wished she hadn't.

* * *

Cuddy wanted to stop torturing herself – there was nothing she could have done, it wasn't her fault. But she desperately wondered why he was drinking by himself so early in the evening. Was it something she had said? Cuddy shook her head – he didn't care enough about her, about anyone, to make this her fault.

A horn blared and Cuddy swerved to the far side of the road as another car was coming the opposite direction down the one-way street. Her thin body crashed against the seat as she jerked the car to a stop. Her breathing became labored as she choked out sobs and fat, salty tears rolled down her cheeks. The rain sounded like gunshots against the windowpane, each one like a bullet through her heart. She felt horrible – lost and alone. Wilson was dealing with the same thing she was – but Cuddy was sure he wasn't feeling like he had lost out on something – she was feeling like she had missed her chance, and nothing could give her that time back.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi everyone! It's been forever, I'm sorry - AP exams want to kill me I swear! This is a really short chapter, but the next (last) two will be JAMPACKED with action. I hope you guys have liked this so far!

**Disclaimer & Copyright.**

So as always, read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

It was peaceful – quiet. He had stopped fighting and let it engulf him, the darkness licking over every limb. There was no pain, no anger, no nothing. He would choose this over reality any day.

"You… are a jerk." House winced, the harsh feminine voice all too familiar to him.

"And you… are a bitch," House countered as the haze cleared and he met the eyes of a very familiar blonde. Amber smirked, flipping her hair and crossing her legs, leaning back into one of the desks in the teaching room.

"So I've been told…" She said with a shrug.

"You know, it was quiet until you came along."

"You'd choose this over people – over your job, over your family, over Wilson? Over Cuddy?" House groaned, placing his head in his hands, trying desperately to get her out of his head.

"You can't just wish me away – your subconscious called me here – I'm here for a reason – not by choice, obviously."

"Well then do what you have to do and get it done – sexual intentions aside, unless that's your idea," House remarked, waggling his eyebrows. Amber shot him a look and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Wilson… has been the best thing that's ever happened to me – sort of a rock in this crazy thing we like to call life. It's nice – comforting." Amber began, taking in a deep breath, House rolling his eyes at the beginning of her sermon. "Sure, we have our fights and sometimes I'm such a bitch that he can't deal with me –,"

"I couldn't imagine that," House said sarcastically and Amber shot him a fierce look for interrupting her.

"And sometimes, he's so sickeningly generous and ends up wanting to give his credit card every homeless person. But that's who I fell in love with and vice versa. Sometimes… those annoying facets of a person are what you fall hardest for. For instance," Amber continued, sliding out of the desk, and began pacing across the room, her black heels annoying snapping against the floor. "She's bossy, irritating, and sometimes a colossal pain in the ass." She didn't use the name, but he knew – it was all these damn hallucinations ever talked about. "But she's beautiful, brilliant, and as infuriating and exasperating as she finds you, she has feelings for you too – has had them since… I don't know, college?" House scoffed, his mind immediately rejecting the idea – she was too good for him; he didn't deserve someone like her – not in a million years.

"You don't know that," he simply said, not believing what she was saying.

"Well, considering Cuddy is best friends with Wilson, and I'm dating Wilson…, I have a pretty good chance." House shook his head, trying his best to ignore her.

"Look. All I'm saying is that she likes you, you like her… what's there to lose?"

As his senses started to return after another blinding flash of light, his nose wrinkled, as he smelled the extremely familiar scent of tuna sandwiches, strong coffee, and Wilson's cologne. The couch was comfortable and he sunk into it comfortably, clutching the pillow.

"House." His eyes snapped open, meeting Wilson's warm, comforting brown eyes.

"Go away," House groaned, pulling the pillow over his head.

"You can't hide forever from the world – You have to face the music someday

"No I don't," House countered stubbornly and Wilson gave him a look. House sighed, openly admitting defeat as he swiveled his body into an upright position.

"I'm not going to tell you that you and Cuddy should date or that you and Cuddy should get married and have little dark haired, blue eyed, Vicodin addicted doctors running around, – you've heard it all before, I'm sure. But when was the last time you ever felt like this? Stacey, I'm sure. Just…," Wilson took a deep breath and folded his hands. "Just because it ended badly doesn't mean that everything will – not everyone leaves, and not everyone is like Stacey – Cuddy especially. If you didn't see that… or don't see that even now, then… I can't help you. No one can." The truth resounded heavily in Wilson's words.

House paused for a moment listening long and hard to what he was saying. The words that he had heard so many times before in this dream, nightmare, whatever this thing was, had always sounded harsh, judgmental. Wilson, however, had this manner of saying things that made you want to listen to him, want to do whatever he was asking. Despite his normally guarded personality, House always listened to Wilson, for better or for worse, everything ending up usually for the better.

The light flashed again and after his eyes adjusted to the new scenery, the bleak light of reality was absent – instead remained this beautiful bright light. House stretched out his arms, his path suddenly blocked by a metal bar. He blinked a few times, and saw the plastic seats all around him, the windows, and the handrails. It was as if the crash had never happened – everything was fully intact. He looked out the window but he couldn't make out anything besides blinding white light. House turned to the other side of him, noticing there was a occupant in the seat across the aisle.

"Hi…"


	5. Chapter 5

Hey ! I'm so sorry it's been probably forever since I've updated. School was... unbearable for about a month. I went through this awful friend situation, one that left me depressed and unable to write. I'm good now, and school is over, so you're gonna be stuck with me all over again! I'm sorry this was such a short chapter - just building for the last chapter - one that will probably be like 500000 pages long. So enjoy!

**Disclaimer & Copyright: Blah blah.**

So, as always, read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

The moment she stepped through those lobby doors, the silence came crashing down on her, like a tidal wave ravaging land. So many pairs of eyes watched her as she walked through the lobby to her office; her head raised high in the air, her crystal blue eyes not meeting with the probing, curious eyes of the hospital staff. Between those who knew her very well, and those who only knew her as their boss, they could all see the hurt she was enduring. As the double doors leading to her office swung shut behind her, she swore she could hear the things that they were saying.

"She has feelings for him, you know."

"They say he was drunk when he got on that bus."

"He's such an arrogant jerk – do you remember when…?"

"What could she possibly see in him?"

And truth be told, sometimes she couldn't answer their questions herself. Most of the time, she didn't know what she saw in him – he was the narcissistic pain in the ass, who believed his misery made him a better doctor and because of that wouldn't do anything about his pain. His attitude of anyone with any religious affiliation with his terrible bedside manner made him that son of a bitch that everyone gossiped about. But sometimes, when he was with Cuddy, there was occasionally a spark of real emotion that left Cuddy's blood warm and her heart racing. She placed her briefcase on the floor and exchanged her grey jacket for her white lab coat. She sat on the edge of the coffee table, crossing her legs and began to snap a hair tie against her hand. Cuddy wanted to go see him, but she was afraid that she would end up finding him worse off than she had seen him that afternoon. This way, the sedentary state that he was before would be the perfect picture that she would see him in. There was a knock at the door and Wilson and Amber slowly peeked inside.

"Is this a bad time?" Wilson asked and Cuddy shook her head.

"Come on in," Cuddy said softly and Wilson entered, with Amber at his side, their fingers intertwined. She felt a stab of jealousy and tingles in her fingertips, wishing she had someone to hold.

"We've been… sitting with him, just… talking to him, and being with him. And his EEG has been improving – not a lot, but improving," Amber began to say.

"We want you to come with us," Wilson added, "to his room. We think… that maybe you could talk to him. Only if you want." Cuddy hesitated briefly.

"How does he look?" She asked slowly.

"Good. Really good. His wounds are all healing… doesn't look quite as gruesome as before," Wilson said lightly and Cuddy managed a weak smile. There was silence, before Cuddy nodded.

"Okay. I'll come."

* * *

"We'll… leave you two alone," Amber said, pulling Wilson out of the room, shutting the sliding door behind her. Cuddy stood at the back of the room, watching House. He did look better – the wounds on his face had almost completely healed. She took a deep breath and took a tentative step towards him, pulling the chair up to sit next to his bedside. She reached out and took his hand, comforted by the touch of his skin.

"Hey… House," she said slowly, then giggled. She wasn't sure how to do this.

"I don't know if you can hear me. You were in a bus crash and now you're in a coma. But you've been in a coma for… for too long now. And…." Cuddy said, as tears slowly began to stream down her face, consumed with racking sobs. "I need you to wake up. I know you're going to want to go find the white light, go achieve whatever the hell your idea of the afterlife is, but don't. You can't do it. Just please come back to us… please," she said, resting her forehead on his hand. "Please." She remained like that for a few moments, only interrupted by the steady beeping of the machine that had now turned into uncontrollable beeping. She looked up at the machine, her eyes widening, and jumped up, running to the doorway.

"He's going into v-fib – I need a crash cart in here!" The nurses rolled in a crash cart and Cuddy grabbed the paddles.

"Charging… Clear!" She shocked him and then pressing her fingers to his neck.

"Nothing… Charging – Clear!" Cuddy yelled, shocking him again. Nothing was happening and a howl was pressing against her throat, begging to be escaped. She was experiencing déjà vu – this wasn't the first time that she was shocking him back to life. It was over a minute last time, what if he didn't make it this time.

"Charge to 300," she told the nurse at the machine, who glanced at her skeptically.

"I said, charge to 300!" Cuddy ordered, her voice rising in anticipation. The nurse nodded, flipping the switch to 300.

"Clear!" She pressed her fingertips to his neck, breathing a long sigh of relief as she began to cry. "He's stable." She breathed, dropping the paddles back onto the cart, and collapsing in the chair next to him, sobbing uncontrollably. The nurses slowly headed out of the room, watching as their dean of medicine's spirit crumbled. She clung to him, wondering whether this was the last straw and it would only get better from there, or that it could only get worse.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey everyone - That was actually some pretty beastly timing for the last chapter - it's not very long, but I hope you guys will like it. Thanks for reading you guys are always great support, and always make me want to get the next chapter up as soon as possible - I love hearing what you have to say.

**Disclaimer & Copyright**

So as always, read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

"You weren't on the bus, were you?" House asked fearfully, examining every aspect of her being, the way her dark hair sparkled from the bright light shining through the windows, the way her outfit hugged every curve of her body.

"No," she said plainly, looking out the window as he breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe – safe from him.

"I'm going to go now."  
"Where?"

"Off the bus."  
"Why?" House took a deep breath, pouring out his soul to the woman sitting next to him.

"No one wants… no one needs me around. Everyone is better off without me. I should get off the bus."

"You really think that?"

"Yes," he said simply. She turned and he felt his heart skip a beat as he now saw the perfect planes of her features, the bright ocean blue of her eyes that mirrored his.

"You really think that everyone will be better off without you? Wilson, your team, the hospital…, me? You think that we'll be better off without you?"

"Yes."

"You really are an ass." Her words stung – not because they weren't true and he was angry because she was being spiteful and vindictive, but because he was truly shocked at what he was saying. He expected her to be happy he was giving up – so that he couldn't hurt her anymore, so that she wouldn't have to hear some of the things that he said.

"You think I should…"

"Yes I think you should!" Cuddy yelled, her temper exploding as she hit the edge of her seat with the palm of her hand. "Yes I think you should stay, yes I think you shouldn't give up!"

"But… I'm… I'm mean to you," House began, throwing down his wall of solitude and letting her see the person behind the shell he had erected. "I say things without even thinking about them, I piss you off all the time, never doing what you ask, always ignoring you. And you still… you want me around? I mean, sure you're not crazily morbid, wishing death upon another person – but…I don't understand it."

"Yeah. You do – you piss me off and make me feel like a tiny, worthless piece of crap. But for 20 years… since college… I haven't found anyone…" Cuddy took a deep breath, turning her body to face him. "You can strip me down to my last shred of dignity. And somehow, I keep coming back to you, always coming back for round two, three, five thousand. Has it really taken you all this time to figure out that I don't just want you around, I need you around?" House was quiet, the realization slowly sinking in. It was strange, the idea of being loved by someone else. Wilson loved him as a best friend, but who else would, as a friend or even more?

"For twenty…?  
"For twenty years House," She breathed, locking her eyes with his.

"I can't change," he said after a moment of unbearable, crushing silence. "I mean, I could…, but…,"  
"If you changed, you wouldn't be the man that I fell in love with." There was another round of silence and House turned to face her. Currents of electricity flowed in the air between them and they moved closer to each other, their knees touching in the aisle of the bus. He pressed his hand to her cheek, as she let out a sigh, leaning into his palm. He lifted her face with a finger, forcing their eyes to meet. He leaned into her, his eyes closing like a dimmer switch, as they took fate into their own hands.

* * *

The sound of the charging electricity and the out of control heart monitor left a resounding resonance in Cuddy's ears. It was a faceless ghost, tormenting her, taunting her because she couldn't do anything more to help him. She refused to leave his bedside, one hand always intertwined with his. Sleep came in short fitful bursts, her head always lying on his arm. She moved only to use the restroom, not even for food. Wilson was bringing her food, items she could only eat with one hand – she refused to drop his hand, refused to leave his side.

It was late in the evening with the moon shining brightly through the window as Cuddy stared blankly ahead, not seeing, not moving, and just clutching to his hand. Her eyes were closed as she leaned back against the chair. She believed she was just dreaming when she felt movement against her hand, but when he began to cough, she opened her eyes, leaping out of the chair and pressing her hand against his sunken cheek.

"Cuddy," he breathed, blinking his eyes, clearing his blurry vision after being asleep for so long.

"Shh, don't try and talk." She said, pressing a finger to his lips. "You suffered severe lacerations over 80 percent of your body. You're on antibiotics for the kidney contusions… they healed nicely, just, don't do anything too stupid for a couple weeks. You went into v-fib from damage done to your heart during the bus crash… do you remember the crash? They fixed all the damage done to your heart…. And you… you should be fine." Cuddy explained, tears rolling down her cheeks at the sight of him finally awake. She realized she was still holding his hand and pulled away, only to have him pull her back again. Cuddy looked down, her heart stopping in her chest.

"House," she said softly, her emotions on a roller coaster of relief, joy, and confusion. All of the thoughts that she had been thinking in the past couple of days, all of the things that she had wanted to say, she now couldn't figure out how to say them.

He watched her, never taking his eyes of off her face, even pale and sunken with days of distress, she was still beautiful to him. All of the voices of his dreams and visions were running through his head… hers specifically. He knew that the subconscious worked in ways that no one could essentially understand, and that during his coma, it was trying to tell him something. They stared at each other, words beyond what any of them were feeling. He moved to the edge of the bed, pulling her closer.

Cuddy was shocked, as she felt his blood rush through his skin, pulsating against her skin. She moved closer, the hospital bed being the only thing in the way of their reunion. She slipped off her black stilettos, shrinking a few inches without the heel to give her that extra height, the extra edge. Cuddy pushed herself up on the bed, fitting perfectly like a puzzle piece into his extended arms. Her tears flowed openly as she nestled into the crook of his shoulder as he combed his fingers through her curls.

"We can try… can't we?" Cuddy asked, choking out a few words through her tears.

"I'm an ass." Cuddy laughed, pressing herself against his warm body.

"I know." He took a deep breath, knowing this was it, that there wouldn't be anything more than this, scared as hell, but being with her was worth all of the sacrifice.

"We can try," he said and she looked up at him, and pushing past the wall that they had held up for so long, their lips met in a fierce kiss, one filled with years of pent-up passion.

"Woah – sorry to interrupt," Amber said, as her and Wilson entered the room, pushing the sliding door back. They broke contact and Cuddy, looked down, embarrassed. Wilson and Amber laughed as Wilson headed over to House's side of the bed, giving him a strong pat on the back.

"It's good to have you back, House," Wilson said, thinking of all the crap that he was planning on giving House later.

"You know, you're still a self-sacrificing pain in the ass, even in my dreams."

"Your… dreams?" Wilson asked, and the room was silent, all facing House. He looked down, embarrassed, as he silently evaded the question.

"Never mind."  
"It's good to have you back, pain the ass."  
"Thanks Cutthroat Bitch," he said with a smirk. Amber rolled her eyes, just contently leaned her head on Wilson's shoulder. Her guilt of avoiding his phone call had evaporated when he woke up, and now she could face them both without that shame of what she had done hiding behind her eyes.

Cuddy watched the greeting as she lay her head in the crook of his shoulder, she sighed contentedly and House turned to look at her and gave her another kiss, tenderly running his hand up and down her arm. It took a bus crash and nearly fatal injuries to change things, but now that they were changed, she wouldn't wish them any other way.


End file.
